Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
MACKENZIE
THIRTEEN-YEARS-OLD
“C ome on Jenson. It’s not much further,” I whisper to my best friend. God he can be such a wuss at times.
Branches creek under my foot and it sounds like a grenade just went off, so I duck behind the nearest tombstone. I’ve been taking this path in St. Jude’s Cemetery for weeks, and I finally got it in my head to let Jenson in on my little secret. He tried to talk me out of it twice, but I didn’t budge. Once my mind is made up. That’s it. I’m not backing down, especially not for a little coward.
We’ve known about the Order of St. Jude’s most of our lives, and in a few years, it will be Jenson and I being initiated into the lower ranks of the Guild. I’ll be protected…maybe even from him. But even as the thought crosses my mind, I know my monster will always be there to lock me in the cage he’s had me trapped in since I was six years old.
Jenson comes up behind me. “What if someone sees us, Kenz? My father, yours…” he trails off. “God, I don’t want to get into trouble again, Kenzie. You know what happened the last time.” The last time, he probably got a lashing, probably got told what a disappointment he was, but punishment to me, was just another weekday occurrence.
“Nobody knows we’re here. We’re just gonna see what these rituals are about. Prepare ourselves.”
“I don’t know.” His voice is shaky and uncertain. Maybe bringing him along was a mistake. He’s a terrified little fucker, always has been.
“Then stay here. I’m going ahead.”
I start moving toward the centuries-old chapel where the Order of St. Jude’s holds their "meetings" as my father calls them. Jenson hesitates, but only for a second before following me. He mutters something under his breath I don’t quite catch.
“Shh, you’re going to get us caught,” I hiss under my breath.
As we draw closer, I hear chanting in an unfamiliar language. I crouch behind a bush of one of the lower windows, then wave Jenson over. The chapel is bathed in dim light, with hundreds of flickering candles casting shadows on the walls, adding to the eerie atmosphere.
A group of robed figures stand around an altar. In the center of the altar, a small fire burns brightly. One of the robed figures leads a group of boys and girls who can't be much older than Jenson and me into the chapel. They're completely naked. My cheeks heat immediately. Sure, I’ve seen naked bodies before, but never people my age. I realize the twistedness of that.
The chanting grows louder and more intense, and I can feel a knot forming in my stomach. A boy catches my eye, and it’s like his dark gaze penetrates my soul. He's absolutely gorgeous, with dark hair, and his frame is more muscular than the other boys I know. Case in point, my lanky best friend, Jenson.
Suddenly, I’m distracted by footsteps and rustling branches behind us. I freeze, my heartbeat drumming in my ears, as I turn, finding my father towers over us.
“What the hell are you two doing here?” My father demands, his voice low and menacing.
I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off. “Never mind, I'll deal with you later. Get out of here now.” He turns on his heel and walks away.
“Come on.” Jenson grabs my hand and drags me away from the chapel. When we’re far enough away, he stops and leans against a tombstone. “We shouldn’t have come, Kenzie.”
I shake my head. “I’m not afraid of him, you know.”
“Yeah well, you should be. I’m afraid of him for you.” Jenson steps closer, his dark gaze holding me hostage in the dark. “I love you. You know that, right?”
“Of course, you do. I’m Mackenzie Yates, what’s not to love,” I smack his chest but he’s looking at me so intensely I know he means it differently this time.
“I’m gonna marry you someday. Take you away from that fucking monster you call, father. I’ll protect you. I swear.”
My fists connect with his stomach, and he bends at the waist, coughing. “What the hell was that for?”
“We’re going to be members of St. Jude's one day, Jenson. You can’t talk shit like that. We’re going to be leaders, you know, Kings and Queens of the Guild, so we can’t marry each other. We won’t be allowed.”
I have no idea what I am talking about. It’s just something I overheard my father and his friends talking about at one of our parties. They can bring people in through marriage, but the founding families should not intermarry.
Jenson looks like I punched him again. “Oh, right,” he says sadly.
Heart racing, I close the distance between us in a matter of seconds. Jenson is more than just my best friend, he's the only person I truly care about, and the hurt in his eyes is like a knife in my chest.
Without hesitation, I reach up and cup his cheeks, pulling him towards me until our faces are just inches apart.
“What are you doing?”
His breath is warm against my skin, and I can feel him tremble against me as I ignore his question and press my lips against his. The sensation is electric, his soft lips molding perfectly to mine.
He probably doesn’t know this, but this is my first real kiss. The first kiss that matters. I’m lost in the scent of the cologne he’s been using lately, mixed with the unmistakable aroma of pine.
It's intoxicating, and I feel my heart beating faster with every passing second. It's just the two of us, lost in our own little world, and nothing else matters.
Jenson's hands move to my waist, pulling me closer to him as if he can't get enough of me. I feel a rush of heat course through my body.
I tread my fingers through his hair, pulling his head even closer, as our tongues start to explore each other's mouths.
Every touch, every sensation, feels like fire coursing through my veins, and I know it has to stop. Nothing good can come of it. In another world we could be together. In another world that kiss would have been more exploratory, less experienced, but not in ours. We grew up way too early.
I pull away, and our breaths come out in ragged gasps.
Jenson smirks at me. “Now I know I love you,” he laughs.
“Shut up,” I reply, and continue walking.
* * *
“Where have you been?” My mother asks when I get home. She’s drunk. I don’t think she should be drinking with her antidepressants and all the other pills she takes.
“Out,” I say, heading toward the stairwell. I don’t want to spend more time than I need to with her. She’s as much a monster as he is.
“I asked you where you were, Mackenzie?” She asks again, standing and stumbling toward me.
“At the chapel.”
Her eyes widen. “Are you stupid, Mackenzie? Do you know what he’ll do if he finds out you were there? You are such a dumb girl. You know better than to disobey your father.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “Worse than what he’s already done, Mother?”
She reels back as if I’ve slapped her. She can live in denial all she wants but I won’t. She may be okay doing his bidding, fucking whoever he tells her to, but I am not. I may have to live this nightmare right now, but one day, one day, they’ll be sorry.
“Just mind your own business,” I say before taking the stairs two at a time.
* * *
The lock clicks into place, and the sound is final, like a gavel sealing my fate. I hear my father’s heavy footsteps retreating, and when they fade, silence engulfs me.
I don’t cry. I won’t give him that satisfaction.
My eyes slowly adjust to the darkness. The air in this small cell in the basement of our house is thick, suffocating, but I force myself to breathe through my nose, slow and measured. Panicking won’t help me. I learned that lesson a long time ago.
I shift my weight, testing the restraints around my wrists. He didn’t tighten them this time—small mercies. The last time, my skin was raw for weeks. I press my back against the cold cement wall, pulling my knees to my chest. The bruises from his beating are still tender, but I barely register the pain. Pain is nothing new. Pain is expected.
My mother is probably upstairs, pouring another drink, pretending I don’t exist. Jenson is probably lying awake in his bed, wondering if I made it home safely. He loves me. He said it tonight. And for a moment, I let myself believe that means something. But love doesn’t save people like me.
I stare into the darkness and imagine a different life. A life where I am untouchable. A life where I am the one holding the power, not trapped beneath it. I think of the Order, of the rituals, of the naked boys and girls standing before the altar, ready to be shaped into something greater—or something far worse.
That will be me one day.
Not as a victim.
Not as a pawn.
As a queen.
A slow smile curves my lips despite the ache in my ribs. My father thinks this will break me, but he doesn’t understand. Every time he tries to crush me, he’s only sharpening my edges.
One day, he will regret underestimating me.
One day, they all will.